A Drow's Tale
by Celeborn's Concubine
Summary: Four drow rogues come together to wreak havoc upon the surface:the story of Donnia Soldou, Kaer’lic Suun Wett, Ad’non Kareese and Tos’un Armgo, as told by me. Rated M for elf smut and gore.
1. Chapter One

**A Drow's Tale: Chapter One**

**Summary: Four drow rogues come together to wreak havoc upon the surface…the story of Donnia Soldou, Kaer'lic Suun Wett, Ad'non Kareese and Tos'un Armgo, as told by me.**

**Warnings: Hopefully you should all know by now that I like my elf smut. I promise plenty of it in this story- and in a story with Donnia and Ad'non, the two horniest drow in existence, what else would you expect? There will also be gore, because they are drow, after all.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any drow, which is probably a good thing for my health and safety. They belong to Mr. Salvatore, and I'm merely borrowing them for a little while…without permission.**

**I know I have other stories to work on, but this is another idea that really **_**would not leave me alone!**_** Ahem. So, here we go…**

The nightly brawl had yet to start in the tavern, though the crowded room was hardly quiet. Most of the clientele were goblinoids of one sort or another, but there were also a few duergar, and a good smattering of drow. There was music, of a sort, being played by some bugbears in a corner, and overall the scene was not that different from any of the seedy taverns of the surface world- just not so well lit.

Safely ensconced in the darkest corner two male dark elves surveyed the room, sipping without much enthusiasm at their drinks. This place was not known for the quality of its liquor.

"He's late," one remarked bitterly, pulling his piwafwi tighter about his shoulders. The other male nodded, acknowledging that he'd heard his companion, but offered no other response.

The minutes ticked by and the first male began to fidget, but stilled at a sharp glance from the second.

A lithe, well-cloaked figure padded silently down the stairs which led into the seedy bar, observed by the two males. The newcomer ordered a drink and chatted with the barkeep for a minute or two before making his round-about way to the pair in the corner.

He didn't offer a greeting, just plopped into an empty seat, leaning back comfortably and letting his boots rest on the table.

"You're-" one male started to say.

"Late, I know. You were followed. I had to remedy the problem."

The newcomer flicked his wrist and a trio of tokens- emblems of drow houses- clattered onto the table.

Despite themselves, both males were impressed, and regarded the newcomer with just a hint of trepidation.

"You have my money?"

The impatient, fidgetty male nodded, pulling a plump purse from his belt. "Half now and half when the job is done," he said hesitantly, laying the purse on the table.

Pearly white teeth gleamed in the darkness of the newcomer's cowl.

"As agreed."

"Here is your assignment," said the second male, handing over a rolled sheaf of parchments. "We will contact you when the deed is done to arrange the rest of your payment."

The newcomer tucked both purse and parchments safely away, quaffed the remainder of his drink, and stood, all in one fluid motion.

"Gentleman!" he declared, hands spread wide. "I take my leave."

And just like that, he was gone.

oOo

Outside, perched safely out of the way of prying eyes, Ad'non Kareese unrolled the parchments, using the faint glow from the tavern's magically illuminated sign to read the details of his next 'assignment'. Ad'non was still young, by the standards of the drow, not yet into his fifth decade, but his reputation as a thief and assassin of considerable prowess was well-earned.

He scanned the documents thoroughly, licking his lips nervously. This was by far the hardest kill he had ever been contracted to make, but if he could pull it off…well, the rewards would be great. The first half of his payment, dangling heavily from his belt, was already more than he had earned from any two of his previous contracts put together.

An assassination _and_ a theft. The target was a priestess of a minor house, but high in the favour of Lolth. Once she was dead he was to take an item- a necklace made of faerie bones- from her body and bring it to his client as proof of the deed. That seemed simple enough. Rolled up with his instructions was a detailed map of the house- even a rather good sketch of his target.

Ad'non had all the tools of his trade with him, so he set off for the targeted house without delay, knowing the sooner his task was accomplished the less chance of his intended victim inconveniently learning of the plot against her life before he got there.

He moved swiftly along the web-streets of Ched Nasad, knowing just when it was best to saunter nonchalantly down the middle of the street, and just when it was best to slip unseen through the shadows.

To the drow male's Underdark-bred eyes the webs which supported the noble houses were brightly lit with faerie fire of many hues. He thought it somewhat gaudy, but he'd always been a bit of an unconventional thinker. He was a good little drow child of Lolth, of course- if he wasn't the priestesses would soon know and deal with _that_ problem- but he'd never been as impressed by positions of power or material possessions as most drow.

Ad'non lived for the fun of the chase. It was one of the reasons he was so desired as a contractual thief- he wasn't the sort to keep whatever item of great value he'd been sent to fetch for himself (something which frequently happened where hired drow thieves were concerned) To be seen to honour one's contracts had been ever-so-good for keeping Ad'non in steady supply of business.

Having reached the right house it was but the work of a moment to slip past the perimeter guards and onto the roof of the cocoon-like structure. Ad'non ran swiftly along the roof, glancing quickly at his map to make sure he had the right part of the house. From a sheathe on his belt he drew a long knife with a wickedly-edged, jagged blade. The edge glinted silvery-blue as he stabbed down into the structure. The exterior of the house was made of a magically hardened spider's silk, and was as strong as the hardest stone, but the magic blade cut through it like it was soft rothe-cheese.

In just a few short minutes he had a drow-sized hole in the roof.

Dropping lightly into the luxurious bedroom of the targeted priestess the drow assassin carefully replaced the cut away piece of ceiling, so that no light would shine through and inadvertently alert his prey.

Then, safely concealed in a hole cut into her mattress, Ad'non settled down to wait.

oOo

Ang'ayne Tor'duis stalked moodily into her chamber, kicking and punching at any unfortunate piece of furniture that got in her way. She hated to be scolded by her mother in front of her younger sisters! It was so undignified!

Still, she supposed she had deserved the lecture. She had gotten House Tor'duis into rather a lot of trouble, after all. Though it wasn't really her fault- the stupid male had never told her who he was! If he was truly determined she was sure he could have bitten through the gag, but obviously he was just lazy. And it wasn't as if she had done permanent damage to any particularly important parts.

Not that a very angry Matron Mother had appreciated having a few decorative scars added to her prized Elderboy. Really, Ang'ayne was lucky her mother had been able to smooth things over- though she doubted her mother would ever let her forget it!

Snarling, she threw herself on the bed, pummeling one of her many plush pillows. It just wasn't fair! No body ever wanted to let her have any fun!

Hidden in the mattress, Ad'non only just managed to suppress his cry of pain when the huge female (and Ang'ayne was built in roughly the same shape as a primitive human fertility goddess) thumped on top of him, her knee ramming right into his diaphragm. Luckily she was so caught up in her tantrum that she didn't immediately notice the unusual warmth and drow-like consistency of her bed, giving the assassin time to stab her twice in the belly with his magic blade.

The plump priestess was wearing magical armour, of course, but the magic in the jagged blade was stronger, and punched right through, tearing a great gash in her soft belly. Ang'ayne squealed with pain, scrambling off the bed and doing her best to get away on all fours.

If Ad'non had not been quite so winded the female would have been doomed, but as it was the flattened male took several seconds to regain his breath and worm his way free of his hidey-hole. Despite her pain Ang'ayne was as fast as any priestess when it came to wielding her snake-headed whip, and four sets of sharp fangs caught the assassin in the chest and shoulder as he pulled free. Snarling, still confident of victory, Ad'non stalked forward.

Desperate, the priestess struck. She lost two of the heads from her whip, but the other two struck squarely on the advancing male's face, staggering him back a step. Knowing it was a matter of life or death Ang'ayne refused to relinquish the advantage, cracking the whip furiously with one hand while she waggled the fingers of the other in a quick spell.

There was a reason Ad'non had been offered so much money to kill this female- she may have been excessively hedonistic even by the standards of the drow, and not the brightest girl either, but she was _powerful_. The male cried out and clutched at his stomach, reeling back as, with one last arcane word, the priestess transferred her wounds to his own flesh, leaving her completely unharmed.

Seeing victory slip beyond his reach the now-gravely-injured male played his trump card. He pulled a fistful of sparkly pink-purple powder from a belt pouch and threw it in the air as another spell- this one a sparking green lightning bolt- smacked hard into his aching body. The powder fell, twinkling, over him. Poor Ad'non thought he was doomed anyway, the priestess let loose another lightning bolt, and it was arcing straight for his face-

Then he was back on the roof, just in the nick of time. Clutching a hand to his torn belly he fled as fast as he possibly could, hearing the cries of alarm beginning to sound out from the house beneath his feet.

oOo

Having managed to evade pursuit for the moment the assassin curled up in the most out-of-the-way hole he could find, scrabbling frantically at his belt as he felt the heat of his own blood oozing over his hand. Finally he found the vial he was looking for, quaffing the contents in one huge gulp. Instantly he began to feel better as the healing potion went straight to work, and in a few minutes he was able to emerge once more onto the streets of Ched Nasad, scurrying along furtively.

He would stop in at his meagre little bedroom and collect the few possessions he did not have on him, and then he would have to go into hiding.

He could not believe he had failed! And at such an important task!

That the priestess he had just failed to kill would try and hunt him down, he was sure of. That the house that had hired him to kill her would want him permanently silenced, he was sure.

He had to leave the city, he decided. That would be the only way to stay safe. But for a trip through the Underdark he needed supplies- and preferably companions. Even a fighter of Ad'non's prowess (and he was hardly feeling confident in his own abilities just at the moment) dared not travel the corridors of the Underdark alone.

Still, he knew in which taverns he might find a group- a merchant caravan, perhaps, or a band of slavers- that would be willing enough to sign him up.

After all, he had a massive amount of gold in his purse with which to butter them up.

oOo

**I know lightning bolts are probably more a wizardly thing than a clerical thing, but Ang'ayne is just the bestest, and can do as she wants, ok? (Please don't make her angry!) **

**I spent some time with a drow name chart I found on a site called 'Descent Into Darkness: Drow Campaign and Resource Centre', and 'Ang'ayne' should roughly translate as 'Savage Lunatic' and 'Tor'duis' as 'Mistresses of the Whip'. Just in case you wanted to know…**


	2. Chapter Two

**A Drow's Tale: Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer: Drow not mine, and I'm certainly not responsible for any damage they may cause.**

Donnia Soldou had always been very much aware of the fact that she was attractive. _Very_ attractive. _Very, very _attractive. And she used it to full advantage at every opportunity.

Sometimes, though, she just didn't know when to reign herself in.

Donnia was currently employed as a soldier for a prominent Ched Nasad house. As a female she was automatically given high rank amongst the house fighters, and luxuriated in her position- that and a large selection of fit, energetic male companions to choose from.

Still, she was far from being the highest ranking of the house's female soldiers, and didn't get on well with her 'sisters'. She had it chalked up to their jealousy of her astounding good looks, and knew confrontation was inevitable.

Confrontation the cocky Donnia was sure could only result in her ascension.

So, when she deliberately chose the known consort of one of the higher ranking female fighters as this evening's entertainment she did so knowing that there would be consequences- that was what made it all so fun!

The male was reluctant, to say the least, but Donnia outranked him, and he could not disobey her order to attend her in her private chamber. Nor her order to strip. Nor her order to lay on the bed…

Donnia could instantly see why her superior was very possessive of this particular male. He wasn't anything special with his clothes on, but the material had been hiding quite a treasure…

She had made sure that they had been witnessed entering her chambers- and knew that her female underlings would run to dob her in as fast as they could, knowing, whatever the outcome of the fight that was sure to come, they could only benefit. So she wasn't at all surprised when the door to her private chamber burst open as she was giving the weeping male a demonstration of some of her favourite toys.

She smiled sweetly at the drow standing in her doorway, face shining white with anger.

"Ah, Nhil'diira! I'm so glad you could join us! Won't you come play?"

A whip lashed out, smacking Donnia in the face. Hard. She hissed with anger, putting her hand up to feel blood spilling from a cut beneath her right eye.

"If that leaves a scar-" she warned venomously. The whip snapped again, this time catching her raised forearm.

"It seems you never learnt to keep your filthy hands off other people's things!" the enraged female spat. "Well, I'm going to remedy that."

Her whip cracked a third time, but this time Donnia was quick enough to dodge away. Drawing her twin slender swords she leapt into the fray. Nhil'diira likewise drew her weapons, and the two went at it hammer-and-tongs, while Nhil'diira's quaking consort lay forgotten on the bed.

Donnia should have given him more thought.

She'd bound him, of course, but only with some scarves she'd bought from a duergar selling exotic fripperies from the surface world. Donnia much preferred to let sheer terror, rather than physical restraints, hold her vict- _partners_- still. When she felt the razor edge of the knife he'd had hidden in one of his boots- which she had stupidly left lying alongside the bed- slicing in towards her kidney she knew she was in trouble.

Diving into a frantic forward roll, Donnia managed to bowl the other female over as they collided at knee-height. Kicking, punching and biting madly the two females rolled about on the ground, but that bloody male was there again, stamping down hard on Donnia's already wounded back and blasting the breath from her lungs.

She kicked his feet out from under him with as much savage strength as she could muster, but the distraction had allowed Nhil'diira to get an arm locked about her throat. Donnia sank her teeth into the other drow's forearm, growling, but the other female merely snarled and squeezed harder.

Donnia wasn't downed yet, though. She smashed her head backwards as hard as she possibly could, a satisfied smirk dancing on her thin lips as she heard the cartilage of Nhil'diira's nose crunch. The other female let go, falling away, and Donnia surely would have stabbed her, but the male had recovered his footing, and was on the attack once more.

She supposed he wanted revenge for what she'd done to him. And she hadn't even had time to get properly started…

Still, he had her hard pressed- more so that she would have expected. Unable to properly regain her feet under the flurry of blows he rained down on her- with one of her own swords, damn him!- she couldn't hope to hold him off for long. Worse still, he was preventing her from finishing off his rescuer, and the other female was stirring.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, Donnia put everything she had into swiping him off his feet again, by swinging both feet hard into his ankles. He slashed down and stabbed his blade deeply into her calf muscle as he fell to the side, but Donnia ignored the pain as she made a break for the door.

The corridor beyond was packed with drow soldiers, trying to peek in and watch the fight, and Donnia bashed her away through them, limping down the hallway as fast as she could.

The male she had been 'playing' with bounced up from the floor, a snarl twisting his features as he made to give chase, but a female- higher ranking again than either Donnia or Nhil'diira- caught him about the waist.

"You'll be forgiven for striking a female in the heat of battle," she told the panting male sternly. "But not if you follow her now."

The male growled angrily, but let the sword he was holding fall to the floor with a clang. The female nodded approvingly, glancing back into the room to see other drow going to the aid of Nhil'diira, who was struggling to sit up. She looked down to study the male, flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat from his exertions, and smiled.

"Come," the older female purred to the male still standing naked in her grasp. "There are more entertaining things we could be doing…"

A groggy Nhil'diira punched the floor angrily as her favourite lover was led away- by a female she was definitely not game to challenge! Donnia would pay for this!

oOo

Nobody tried to impede her progress as Donnia limped and hobbled through the twisting corridors of the soldier's barracks- that would spoil the fun!

The raggedly panting female knew she had to get out of the house, had to get somewhere safe, before Nhil'diira recovered enough to come after her. She still thought herself well up to the task of finishing the silly bitch off, but only in a one-on-one fight. And now that the other female had her measure, she was sure that was _not_ what she would be getting.

Cursing constantly under her breath and leaving a hot trail of blood droplets on the floor behind her Donnia struggled onwards.

If she could just get out of the compound…

The quartet of males lounging about on guard outside the main door jeered when Donnia staggered through. All four had been called to her chamber at one time or another, and all four hated her for it- Donnia was not especially vicious by drow standards, but she _was_ extremely inventive, much to the dismay of her vict-_ partners_.

But they made no move to stop her as she fled down the street as fast as was able.

oOo

Ad'non, changed and carrying all of his worldly possessions in a single pack, was having a little drink to calm his nerves. Hidden in the shadows not far from the liquor merchant's stall he heard the scuffle of unsteady feet on stone, and watched disinterestedly as a female, clutching at a bleeding wound in her calf, hobbled and scraped her way along, nearly bent double. He vaguely recognised the uniform she was wearing, and, looking back the way she had come, could see a group of others dressed in the same approaching.

Well, a little street theatre might cheer him up a bit.

It didn't take long for the pursuers to surround the wounded female, who snarled and spat at them as they formed a ring about her. Arranging himself more comfortably to watch the show, the drow male observed others, drow and otherwise, doing the same all about the street.

The leader of the pack, a female sporting a crushed and bloody nose, stepped forwards slightly. "You're going to pay for what you've done!" she promised the trapped and injured female. "I'm not going to kill you- that would be too easy. But we'll see how pretty you are when I'm done with you!"

A pity, thought Ad'non. She was an unusually pretty one.

The broken-nosed female advanced, drawing a wicked looking hook from her belt. Two of her cronies stepped forward to catch a hold of the doomed female, who spun about, slashing at them with a fine-looking blade.

"Back off!" she growled, managing to drive them back. "I mean it!"

The broken-nosed female snickered. "I might let you serve me, even," she said, as if honestly considering the idea. "It looked like you had some fun gadgets in that room of yours- I shall enjoy finding out what they do."

The wounded female lunged at her.

Ad'non had intended to watch, nothing more. But as the fight between the two became a full-fledged brawl- all the broken-nosed female's friends trying to leap into the action- it quickly swept up many of the watcher's in the shadows as the fighter's rolled over or into them.

One female backed into Ad'non, treading heavily on his foot. "Watch it!" the male snapped, giving her a push. That had hurt!

The female sneered and turned to stab the insolent male- how dare he lay his hands on her!- but Ad'non was by far the better fighter, and in the blink of an eye it was all over for the clumsy female. Two of her friends saw though, and leapt at Ad'non with howls of rage. Both fell dead in quick succession, one clasping at her wickedly torn throat, the other trying to hold in the guts that spilled out of her belly.

And just like that the assassin found himself right in the thick of it.

Somehow he found himself back-to-back with the wounded female who had been the start of all this trouble. She leant back on him, heavily, reaching behind her to grab his arm.

"Get me out of here," she growled out, "and I'll make it worth your while."

With a shrug- in such close proximity she'd probably have ended up along for the ride anyway- he threw some of his shimmering powder into the air above their heads.

oOo

Kaer'lic Suun Wett stalked slowly along the corridor, the hem of her robe swishing ominously. She liked the sound, and leered at an unnerved male who quickly made an elegant bow at her passing. Unusually strong and exceptionally vicious, Kaer'lic, second daughter of House Suun Wett, was feared by many, male and female alike.

She swept up to the door of the House Chapel, where two of the House's elite female guards stood watch. One hurried to open the door for her and she gave a curt nod of thanks before drifting through.

Her Mother and two younger sisters were already there, huddled about the prized Suun Wett altar, a huge spider-shaped table carved perfectly from a single giant piece of dark purple crystal. Kaer'lic paused, surveying the scene with her good, left eye. The right she had lost in battle as a young initiate to the following of Lolth, serving her time in the patrols that roamed the Underdark corridors immediately surrounding Ched Nasad. Her mother could have easily re-grown the orb, but Kaer'lic had instead taken an eye from the socket of a giant spider- a family pet that had finally succumbed to old age after nearly three centuries- and placed it in her own.

At first her mother had been worried that Lolth might not be pleased with the mutilation of the spider's corpse, but no harm had ever come of it- and the glittering, multi-faceted orb was so useful when it came to scaring the living daylights out of captured faeries!

Matron Chess'ithra Suun Wett glanced up, a relieved smile actually breaking out on her face.

"My daughter! You are here. Come, come, join us. Hurry!"

As her mother beckoned frantically to Kaer'lic to join the family in prayer she noted her older sister's absence. This did not bode well.

**Nhil'diira should roughly translate to 'outraged sister' and Chess'ithra to 'noble lady dragon'. Hey, I just liked the way they sounded.**


	3. Chapter Three

**A Drow's Tale: Chapter Three**

**Waldfee: Sorry, no smut yet, but we'll get there soon, I promise ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any drow, so please drop me a line if you have any for sale.**

"Mother, where is Akor'cice?"

As the eldest daughter of House Suun Wett, Akor'cice should have been here, joining her voice to the Matron Mother's fervent prayers. Seeing her mother blanch, even physically cringe at the mention of the name, Kaer'lic knew without doubt that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Your sister has left Ched Nasad," Matron Chess'ithra informed her daughters. "She has forsaken the Spider Queen to run off with our tramp of a Weapons Master…"

Kaer'lic dropped to her knees, clasping her hands before her and beginning to pray. If her elder sister had forsaken the Spider Queen all of House Suun Wett could be in dire peril.

"When did she go?" asked the youngest girl, Brizae, tremulously. But the Matron Mother only shook her head, not ceasing her frantic chanting. Kaer'lic understood then that her mother did not know for sure when Akor'cice had gone- drow were not a communal bunch, and did not gather the whole family together on a daily basis. One of Kaer'lic's brothers had died and it had been a whole month before she'd even wondered what had happened to him.

If the eldest daughter's desertion had lost House Suun Wett the favour of Lolth- and it was possible that they had been out of favour for a number of days by now- a rival house could even now be preparing to attack.

All of a sudden the whole house shuddered and rocked under the force of a magical blow to the main doors. The family chapel shook, fine, web-like cracks appearing on the walls and ceiling. As she was knocked sprawling Kaer'lic thought bleakly: even now a rival house could be attacking.

oOo

Ad'non rocked on his feet, putting out an arm to steady the wounded female as she staggered, dazed against him. It had taken him some time to get used to such powder-enabled travel, and had fallen flat on his face the very first time he had used it.

Not that he was _ever_ going to let anyone know about that.

He had brought them to the very lowest part of Ched Nasad, the cavern floor, where the slave markets were held. The place _seethed_; drow, duergar, goblins and the like jostling and pushing between the stages and pens where various slavers hawked their wares. Ad'non thought it beautiful in its chaos, a very tribute to Lolth.

Taking a hold on the female's wrist- she had promised him a reward for saving her, and though he doubted she'd ever had any intention of giving him anything he had every intention of taking what he was owed- he led her through the crowd. She resisted for a moment, then wearily followed, limping along behind him.

The drow wove his way through the various 'stalls', searching out one voice that rose above the clamour of all the rest. Standing on a wooden crate at the side of a small cleared space was an orc. He was small, almost diminutive, by the standards of his race, but what _really_ marked him out was his attire. The orc wore a dark blue top hat, banded in mauve ribbon and with a great mauve bow on one side. A velvet jacket in matching blue covered a white shirt which spilled lace frills from the collar and cuffs, while underneath the orc wore cream riding pants and fine brown leather boots. The problem was the outfit had clearly once belonged to a rather tall man, while the orc would be lucky to top five feet if he stood on his very tippy-toes. As a consequence the boots reached rather higher than his knees, what could be seen of the pants showed a definite concertina effect, the coat-tails trailed in the dirt, and even the top hat slid rakishly to one side, threatening to fall off entirely at any moment. As the orc turned, addressing itself to someone in the crowd it could be seen that he also wore a monocle, and carried a riding crop jauntily under one arm.

"Ladies, ladies and gentaaalmarn!" The creature drawled at its audience. "May I present tew yew, this-ah wonderful specimen from-ah the surface! Twen-ty years of age-ah! Still got all 'is teeth-ah! A _bargain_, ladies and gentlemen, _a bargain_, at only fifty, _fifty_, gold pieces I say!" The crop flicked out to indicate a wretchedly shivering human, which looked half-dead to Donnia, and certainly not worth fifty gold pieces.

"He calls himself Lord Pennyfeather," the male murmured softly in her ear. "The orc, I mean. I _believe_ it was the name of the man he killed to get those clothes. He's one of the best known slavers in the Underdark."

Donnia, feeling almost as wretched as the pitiful human slave, shrugged, not caring. She stood by the male, leaning on him slightly (she was grateful that he let her do this, though if she'd not been feeling so groggy she'd have wondered what motive he had for putting up with it) while they watched the orc haggling with the crowd. Eventually he got thirty gold for his human, and forty for a battered old dwarf after that. Dimly the drowess wondered why they were watching a slave auction, but couldn't be bothered to ask.

The wounds in her leg and back were really _hurting._

Finally the auction ended and the male dragged her forward, calling out a greeting to the orc.

"Who're yew?" the creature asked warily, eyeing the approaching drow.

"Ad'non Kareese," the male said with a little bow (to an _orc_, Donnia thought in disgust) "and-"

He looked at her expectantly, and eventually she realised he was waiting for her name. "Donn-" she started, but then everything was spinning and, overcome by shock and blood loss, Donnia fell heavily to the ground, out stone cold.

"Woops," Ad'non said to the orc, prodding the female with his toe. Sighing, he reached into a pocket and bought forth a vial of healing potion- this was his last one, damn it! Pouring it down the female's throat he saw the orc watching curiously, and turned with his best, most winning smile in place.

oOo

When Donnia came to it was to find herself lying on her side in a narrow, lumpy bed, facing a mildewed plaster wall. There was something warm and solid at her back, which she inadvertently elbowed as she struggled to turn about in the cramped space.

Ad'non grunted, brought rudely awake. He felt the female shifting about behind him and grunted again, wanting to be left to his reverie. She gave him a sharp poke in the back though, forcing him to turn and look at her.

"Where the hells are we, and _what the hells do you think you're doing?_"

The young male sighed. Why were all females so cranky all the time?

"We're in a bed, and I _was_ trying to sleep," he answered reproachfully. "And seeing as you had no coin on you to pay for a bed of your own it was decided that you'd have to share mine."

Donnia was no stranger to strange situations, and it didn't take her long to figure out what had happened.

"You signed us up with the slaver band," she accused, poking him again, just to make herself feel better.

"I did, and stop that," he replied. The female raised her hand to smack him for his impertinence, then thought better of it. He was regarding her calmly, not at all intimidated. Donnia was not a large female and he was easily as large, and probably just as strong, as she was. In her still weakened- though she felt much better- state it probably wasn't a good idea to go starting trouble.

"Fine then," she huffed at him. "Budge up a bit."

oOo

The slaving party consisted of a dozen or so orcs and goblins, a pair of duergar, and a beautiful human woman. She called herself Silky. She was tall, more so than either of the drow, with long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a comely figure. Her beauty was dreadfully marred though, by a gnarled and crippled hand.

She was the main facilitator of the band's slaving, the drow learned. A variety of costumes, a touch of make-up and she could be anything: a blushing dairy maid to draw in a feckless human farm lad, or a rich and clearly incompetent adventurer to draw in the monsters.

The woman's eyes lit up when she first saw Ad'non- which he didn't mind at all. Having discovered that she had no money the drow male had already been planning to collect his reward from Donnia in other ways, and now there was another female in the mix. Things were looking up.

Donnia was feeling put out with the whole affair- but she didn't see much else available to her, and was content to follow Ad'non while he remained interested in looking after her. She figured he'd want some sort of payment eventually, but hopefully she would be fully recovered before it became an issue, and then she was sure it would be no problem to rid herself of the troublesome male.

The slaver band moved out from Ched Nasad on foot, but with a pair of pack lizards carrying most of their gear and supplies. They were heading for the surface, Pennyfeather informed the drow, something both were a little apprehensive about, but Ad'non, at least, was excited by the prospect of such an adventure.

After an hour or so of trudging through the Underdark tunnels that led away from the city the duergar that was leading the party signalled for them to halt, sensing something up ahead. Pennyfeather motioned for Ad'non to go ahead, and so the male cautiously went forwards, content to do as he was told for the time being. The orc had only wanted a gold coin each to let them join the band- which was less than he had been expecting- and hadn't asked any questions, though the crafty old orc surely understood that the pair of drow were in some sort of trouble. Though wary of this apparent generosity the drow was eager to make himself a valuable addition to the party, to keep up his end of the bargain, as it were.

Such an unusual attitude had served Ad'non very well in the past, bringing him the best paying clients and contracts.

Creeping around a turn in the tunnel he came across a curious sight. There appeared to be a drow lying huddled against one wall, warm blood leaking from at least a dozen wounds. As he crept closer Ad'non discerned that it was a female- large and powerfully built- and that she was breathing, though raggedly.

Daring to come even closer he reached out tentatively to pull a few bloodied tendrils of hair away from her face, peering curiously at her.

As fast as a striking snake the female- who had appeared unconscious- had caught his wrist in a vice-like grip, and had pushed her snarling visage right into his startled face.

There was something wrong with one of her eyes.

**Akor'cice translates to either 'beloved child' or 'first child', and Brizae to 'graceful dancer'.**


	4. Chapter Four

**A Drow's Tale: Chapter Four**

**SteelAndFire: Thanks for the review:D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the drow characters, but all the OCs are entirely my fault. I promise to round them up and dispose of them afterwards.**

Kaer'lic Suun Wett hunched, pained and miserable, atop the pack lizard as the group plodded onwards. Somehow she had escaped the burning wreckage of her family abode and fought her way free of those who sought to prevent her escape, fleeing into the corridors of the Underdark. Exhausted, barely able to move once the adrenalin had faded and with copious amounts of blood draining from her body, she had collapsed alone in the darkness.

The drow priestess was unsure whether or not to be grateful for her timely 'rescue'. The band were clearly slavers, and she would fetch a high price should they wish to sell her. Still, for the moment the drow male who had first found her seemed to have spoken for her, and it looked as if she was safe for the time being.

Closing her eyes Kaer'lic sought that special place inside her, that place where she could hear the call, feel the presence of Lolth singing through her very being. The call came muted, and she felt the Spider Queen's dissatisfaction, causing her to moan aloud, bereft. Still, in ill favour as she was, there was still some power there, enough to cast a few small healing spells upon herself, and thusly comforted she was able to fall asleep.

oOo

Ad'non walked along beside the pack lizard, intently studying the sleeping priestess. He wished he had another vial of healing potion that he might give her, but he had used the last on Donnia. He regretted that now. She was a pretty one, but not of much other interest to him. But this one…

He knew that any cleric so battered and left all alone in the tunnels was surely in flight from something, and therefore _not_ likely in the favour of Lolth. He knew that Ang'ayne Tor'duis, his failed assassination attempt, _was_ a priestess in Lolth's highest favour, and thus likely able to obliterate this one was easily as he might swat an insect, but he was really, truly, deeply afraid that Ang'ayne might come after him, even if it meant following him from the city. This priestess, battered as she was, might be the best protector he was likely to get.

He had had a nightmare before the slaver band had left the city, once Donnia had ceased her poking and prodding and let him go back to sleep. He had dreamt that he was bound tight to an altar, so tightly that he could not move at all. While he sweated and whimpered and wept unseen clerics had started to chant and then in an explosion of pain his body had begun to change. From the fiery agony in his belly ripped three sets of long, hard spider legs, his own drow limbs melting and cracking and popping until they were the same. He felt his body bloating, his bones melting and reforming, flesh and tendons twisting. He screamed and screamed and sobbed and begged but nobody was listening- nobody came to save him as the clerics enacted the worst punishment Lolth could bestow- as they turned him into a drider.

He had woken when Donnia slapped him across the back of the head, hard, complaining of his thrashing. He had lain there for long moments, shuddering and crying, unable to calm himself, struggling frantically to regain his composure. The female at his back surely felt every shake and quiver, every suppressed sob, but had the unexpected good grace not to mention it, for which he was very grateful.

He could do without that embarrassment.

Shaking his head slightly, deliberately pushing away such awful thoughts, Ad'non concentrated instead on how he might convince this new female that he was worth having around…

oOo

The human woman, Silky, trudged along towards the rear of the group. Her good hand clutched compulsively at the magic brooch at her throat, one which allowed her to see, however faintly, in the depths of the Underdark. She kept her eyes locked on the handsome drow male walking a little way ahead of her, watching the end of his snow-white pony-tail swish back and forth as he moved.

She wasn't sure how he had persuaded Pennyfeather to take himself and his female companion into the group- the pretentious orc had never employed drow before- the intrigues they played were too complex for them to be trusted- and she suspected that a lot of money might have changed hands.

Silky wanted money- would do almost anything for it; sell her body, murder a close friend. She had fallen in with Pennyfeather and his wretched group in her eternal quest for wealth, had betrayed goodly friends to the slaving band in exchange for coin. She had not always been so obsessed with gold, had been a ranger, in fact, above such material needs.

Until she had hurt her hand.

There were clerics who might heal her, might make the twisted limb what it had once been. But the cost would be phenomenal. Her friends had offered to do what they could to aid her, would help her petition the various rulers and lordlings she had aided throughout the years, but little gold was forthcoming from those who had so taken advantage of her spirit of generosity in the past.

A canker had begun to grow deep in her heart, a sense of hurt and injustice which tortured both her waking and sleeping hours. Her friends had told her she was growing cold, turning from them, and begged her not to give in to despair. But the truth was that she had already done so.

It haunted her, though, what she had done. She had long run with a fair-sized band of rangers: humans, dwarves, half-elves and elves. She had betrayed them all, long-valued companions and one a lover. He had been cut apart on an altar of Lolth, she had later learned, and whatever was left of her heart had died on that day.

Even the rich purse Pennyfeather had given her in exchange for her friends had not been sufficient to persuade a priest to fix her hand. So she had taken up with the slaver band, hoarding her meager share of their profits.

But she had watched this intriguing drow, and noticed certain things about him. His attire and gear appeared modest, but all of it was of _very_ good quality, and likely all of great expense. Especially the interesting knife he wore at his belt. The plump purse he wore concealed beneath his cloak had not escaped her notice either- she had seen him tuck it carefully there when he was dressing this morning.

If that purse contained gold or jewels it might very well add enough to her savings to finally have her hand healed.

oOo

Ad'non could charm when he wanted to- could do so remarkably well, in fact- but he was making no headway with the surly priestess. Sulking, he sat himself some distance from her to pick at his evening (though none of them really knew what time it was, they had walked until they were all tired and becoming cranky, at which point the orcs demanded a break) meal. He found he had very little appetite.

He heard the soft step of someone approaching, and looked up, expecting to see Donnia, likely come to harass him about something, bitch that she was being. But it was the human woman, who smiled and seated herself at his side.

"You should eat," she scolded him gently. "Else you'll regret when we move off again. Pennyfeather can be a stingy one when it comes to supplies."

Ad'non just stared. She was speaking drow! He had never met a non-drow who could speak his language.

"Put those eyes back in," she laughed, teasingly, reaching out to run the fingers of her good hand down his arm. "On the surface, men often seem to think that if a girl is pretty it means she's stupid. But I assure you that it just isn't true."

She leaned forward, bringing their faces just inches apart. Ad'non blinked. He'd never encountered such wantonness in a female before. He found himself quite affected.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" the woman positively purred, practically pulling herself into his lap. She chuckled in a rumbling sort of way as the drow blinked rapidly at her.

"What are you doing?" he finally found the wit to ask her when she began unlacing his fine shirt one-handed. She looked him right in the eye, her voice dropping huskily.

"What would you like me to do?"

oOo

Donnia listened to the little sounds of lust drifting out of the darkness- it sounded like her annoying companion and the human were having fun. She found herself irritated, though she wasn't sure why, or at whom. With a great "Humph!" she crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms across her chest, chewing on her bottom lip.

The male's soft cry of completion echoed in her ears.

oOo

Donnia was more than a little surprised when Ad'non came and snuggled against her back. "_What_ are you doing?" she asked him in the complex drow finger-speech.

"You promised me a reward," he murmured softly in her ear. "And I'd like to claim it now…"

"If you think that I'm going to sleep with you when you stink of that human-" she started but the insolent male shushed her.

"No," he said softly, arranging his head comfortably on her shoulder. "I want you to guard me from 'that human'. Please? She's up to something."

Donnia sighed, but still, this was not so bad. She had expected the male to demand Lolth-knew-what acts from her, and she still didn't think she was well enough to fend him off if he was really determined.

"Alright then," she told him, clasping his hand where it rested over her belly. "Sleep. I'll keep watch."

"Thank you," he breathed sleepily against her ear. "Wake me when you want to sleep." He nuzzled the back of her neck and settled himself comfortably, slipping into reverie. Donnia kept herself awake- she was feeling sore and restless anyway- and found her eyes locked with the priestess across the way, who was looking at her with evident disdain. She shrugged slightly in the other drow female's direction- it wasn't uncomfortable to lie back against the male's chest like this, sharing the warmth of his body.

The priestess looked away, curling herself up against the flank of the pack lizard, wearily settling down to sleep.

Donnia smirked at her- as annoying as he might be she'd much rather be cuddling up with Ad'non than with a lizard.

The drowess didn't miss Silky watching them, either.


	5. Chapter Five

**A Drow's Tale: Chapter Five**

**WARNING: Torturous torture! Smutty smut! **_**And **_**both at the same time! If you don't like torture, or smut, then flee while you can- I'll hold the drow off as long as possible. **

**Seriously. I've warned you. Don't complain to me if you kept reading anyway…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ad'non, Donnia, Kaer'lic, Ched Nasad or the Underdark (and various monsters contained therein- except for the giant slug thingie. That one's definitely my bad ;)**

Time seemed suspended as the group plodded ever onwards. There was no sun; no moon; no stars in the Underdark by which to measure the passing of hours, nor had they one of the magical constructs common in the houses of Ched Nasad which served such a purpose. 

Relationships flowed and settled; all three drow coalesced, like a little island in a sea of other races, as stories were exchanged. Kaer'lic particularly enjoyed Ad'non's account of how he had stabbed Ang'ayne Tor'duis- a long time rival for the affections of Lolth and other, more tangible, benefits of power- and had him recount the affair many times. 

Pennyfeather soon discerned the usefulness of the three drow- Ad'non and Donnia would alternate as point, for both had some experience in leading drow patrols, and Kaer'lic proved proficient at healing the minor mishaps various members of the group suffered. 

Life was by no means uneventful- attacks by hungry monsters were frequent. Though they'd long ago lost track of the time within two tendays the little party had fought off a solitary displacer beast, a trio of hook horrors, and a mysterious blobby creature, not unlike a particularly ugly giant slug. The latter monster proved capable of spitting acidic slime, and caused a number of nasty injuries before it was brought down. Even Kaer'lic didn't know what it was, and she was far older and better educated than any other in the group.

It wasn't all hardship though. A small tribe of goblins was apprehended, and 'sorted' by Pennyfeather and his more experienced lackeys. Those judged fit for sale where shackled and attached to a running slave-gang chain. Those judged unfit were given over to the drow for a bit of play.

Donnia was happily 'playing' with the last of the unfortunate wretches- she had a sinewy noose about the whimpering goblin's throat, pushing it to the edge of death again and again, while Kaer'lic, reclining idly nearby, continually healed the poor creature so that the other drow could continue with her game. Ad'non sat near the priestess' feet, industriously cleaning his gear, carefully pretending he couldn't see Silky watching his every move.

The human woman's intense regard was a little unsettling. Oh, as a reasonably comely young male Ad'non was used to being leered at- and more- by females. And he'd be the first to admit he had enjoyed himself that night- Silky _was_ beautiful, even with her crumpled hand, and the drow male had never been treated the way she had treated him before. Sure, her nails had left their marks on his back and shoulders, but she had not hurt him; not degraded him; not used him only for her own pleasure the way a drow female would have done. 

For the first time in his life Ad'non had slept with a partner who was interested, not in having him pleasure her, but in pleasuring _him_. It had been _wonderful_. 

Yet the young drow male had too much experience with females of his own kind, and the constant intrigues that the drow played, to just relax and enjoy his good fortune. It _was_ possible that her constant attention was that of an infatuated lover, or mayhap a jealous one, but Ad'non could not believe that was the only reason she watched him like a somewhat anxious hawk. 

There was something else she wanted, but the woman was fooling herself if she believed the drow wasn't on to her tricks.

Still, it was a pity Donnia or Kaer'lic couldn't be persuaded to take a leaf or two out of Silky's book. He was able to pleasantly amuse himself for quite some time with such thoughts.

The priestess snorted and kicked Ad'non's shoulder- hard. One always had to be careful whenever a cleric of Lolth was nearby- what random thoughts they might overhear only they might know. The young male rolled with the blow, to soften its impact a little, and came up laughing, guessing which extremely lewd fantasy had earned him that rebuke.

"Do you not think it's a good idea, dear Kaer'lic?" he asked mischievously, staying safely out of reach. 

"In your dreams," the one-eyed female replied scornfully. Donnia turned to watch their debate, unwittingly causing the demise of her orc in her distraction.

"Oh, come now," Ad'non fluttered his eyelashes playfully. "I thought you more adventurous than that!"

"Go and pester Donnia," the priestess scolded, waving him away. "You're not my type."

The male laughed again, sidling up to the other drowess. "Well, what do you say?" he asked as he nuzzled her cheek with his own. His fantasies had stirred him not a little, and he was feeling bold. "Care to be pestered?"

Donnia sighed, realising that she'd damaged her victim beyond repair. "A little frisky today, are we?" she asked, as the male set his lips to the joint of her neck and shoulder. "You've used up your favour, you know. If you want to play, it'll be by my rules."

Ad'non pouted, pausing in his nibbling of her neck. "That sounds ominous. Anything I can do to change your mind?"

"No- though I'll let you go unscathed if you choose to desist now."

The male seriously contemplated getting up and walking away, and couldn't help glancing over to where Silky had been watching them, but the human was gone. He supposed he could deal with his excitement himself, and was starting to rise and walk away when the female grasped his wrist and pulled him back.

"Too late," she purred, pushing him onto his back. "I've decided what game I want to play now."

"Now that's not fair," Ad'non started to protest, but Donnia wasn't listening. She straddled the male's hips and produced a long, silver-bladed dirk from her belt, showing it to the now wide-eyed drow. "Wh-what's that for?" he stammered, as she started slicing through the laces on his shirt. Donnia leant forward and silenced him with a kiss. 

"You haven't a gag handy, have you?" she asked the amused priestess conversationally. Kaer'lic replied in the negative before coming and sitting herself beside her fellow drow. "Mind if I watch?" she asked in response to Donnia's raised eyebrow. 

The former soldier shook her head, pushing Ad'non's shirt off his shoulders and ripping off a great strip. "Hey!" the male began to protest, before he was deftly gagged. Donnia gathered her hands in one of her own, then looked speculatively over at the priestess. Kaer'lic obligingly reclined on her side next to the male and took charge of his wrists, holding them up above his head.

Both females looked down appreciatively at the well-defined muscles of the anxious male's chest. "Very pretty," Donnia murmured, leaning down to taste. Then she rose gracefully and walked over to where the male had been sitting. She scooped up the little bottle of oil he'd been using to clean his gear and returned to her comfortable perch atop him, unstoppering the container and pouring a generous amount over his chest.

Then, while Ad'non held watched wide-eyed, she began to move the oil about with her gleaming blade. She stroked it across his chest, feeling a delightful tremor run through the young male's body as the cool blade ghosted over his skin. Over collarbones and the graceful ebony of his throat; down well defined pectoral and abdominal muscles; along sleek flanks ran the blade, spreading the oil in a gleaming cover across midnight skin. The whole time the young male ceased to breathe, trembling. Yet, when Donnia sat back to admire her work there was not a cut to be seen.

That was soon to be remedied.

Gently, almost sensually, the drowess pressed the very tip of her blade to a point not far below Ad'non's collarbone, applying just enough pressure to break the skin and cause dark, red blood to well. She carefully moved the blade down, opening a red, bleeding line own the male's chest, finally stopping just above a nipple. Ad'non let out a breathy moan, eyes screwed close, as the process was repeated again and again across his torso. The tip of her tongue poked out the corner of her mouth, and sweat beaded on her forehead as Donnia worked, as carefully and precisely as the most dedicated of artists. 

Ad'non's back arched, but Kaer'lic held his wrists firmly, keeping him down. The male sweated and strained, his whimpers and groans muffled by the gag, and a blush (though only heat-seeing eyes could have marked it out from his sable-hued skin) suffused his cheeks as Donnia's weight atop him, and the gentle friction from his struggling, only provoked his excitement further.

Eventually, when Ad'non thought he could bear no more, was roused beyond belief by such sweet, subtle pleasures and the sharp, contrasting pain, Donnia sat back, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Oh, very nice!" Kaer'lic murmured approvingly, looking the male up and down. Donnia beamed at the compliment.

A few muttered words from the priestess and Ad'non- who was not quite lucid at this point- had his first and only out-of-body experience. Looking down at himself sprawled half-naked on the floor he beheld the pattern Donnia had patiently etched into his chest. 

It was a spider web.

He blinked, and found himself looking up at the pair of females once more.

Donnia removed his gag almost tenderly as the priestess released his wrists, and the former soldier lay down full length atop him, causing the weeping cuts to sting frightfully, as she kissed him lovingly.

"There now," Donnia purred in the speechless male's face. "Wasn't that fun?"

Ad'non lay breathing heavily for a long moment, while Donnia stroked damp tendrils of hair from his sweat-soaked forehead, squirming a little atop him and causing him great discomfort- her intention, he could tell from the smirk twisting her pretty lips.

Eventually, his voice sounding rather hoarse and shaky, the male found a reply. 

"Do I get to choose the game now?"

Donnia laughed, and exchanged a look with Kaer'lic. "Oh, why not? Seeing as you were such a good boy…"

oOo

Silky gnawed anxiously at the nails of her good hand as she watched the antics of the three drow. She could _see_ Ad'non's purse nestled in his belongings where he'd dropped them- but all three drow were far too close for her to try and get it. And the male was _not_ being co-operative. She'd thought he'd be easy to seduce- especially given the treatment his fellow drow were according him!- and then it couldn't be too hard to snatch his purse and run. She'd meant to wait 'til they reached the surface, of course, as even she, who had spent nearly five years in the Underdark, didn't stand a great chance of surviving a solo trek through the lightless, monster-infested tunnels. But even the most determined flirting had failed to draw him since that first night.

He'd seemed to enjoy himself, right enough. 

Silky bit back the anger that threatened to wash over her. It was doubtless her crippled hand that repelled him- and why should he come to her when there were pretty, elven females at his disposal…as she watched Donnia graciously grant Ad'non his 'reward for good behaviour' she couldn't stop a scowl from twisting her features.

The other female was not a rival, she was sure. Of heavy (for an elf) build and with a missing eye, Silky didn't think Ad'non would be attracted to the priestess. Nor did she think the priestess would be overly concerned for his welfare. But the small, pretty female…she was another matter entirely.

Silky resolved that Donnia needed to meet with an accident as soon as possible.

**This chapter took me **_**forever**_**. I kept rewriting it because it was sort of…lumpy…I'm still not entirely happy with it, but it doesn't seem to be much inclined toward further improvement- any comments that could help me improve it are very welcome, I assure you. It also got smuttier with each reworking…hmmm….**

**I know, I know, Silky's a rather shallow character, but I think she's kinda fun. **

**And as for Ad'non and the spider web…in case you didn't know, tattoos were originally done by making a cut, and then pressing dye- normally woad, I think- into the cut, so that you'd end up with a sort of**** coloured**** scar. Cool, huh? I think so, anyway…**

**That, and I was inspired by a very sexy pic I saw on the net of two drow and a dagger… XD**


	6. Chapter Six

**Thank you to everybody who has reviewed :D I'm sure you all know by now how much I love reviews.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit, etc.**

**Warning: Fight scene! Huge amounts thereof! I tried hard, so please be forgiving. **

Ad'non paused, searching the heavy blanket of velvet darkness with all of his keen elven senses, even stopping his breath to better hear. He had seen no tracks or gleaming eyes; heard no scuff of feet on stone, but in his gut he knew he was being watched. Alone, running point, he was desperately vulnerable.

As he held motionless, crouched low to the jagged floor of a narrow tunnel, he felt a chill flow of air ruffle his snowy mane. It brought unknown, intriguing scents to the young drow; for the slaving band was near to the surface now, and all the heady aromas of late summer were filtering down into the earth.

Came an almost silent footfall on his flank, the only warning the drow had before his attacker lunged at him from the darkness. He ducked the snap of a leather whip which whistled overhead, and threw himself into a frantic backwards roll, feeling the rush of a blade passing close behind him. A harsh female voice swore as he came to his feet and skittered back, desperately seeking his assailant. Dark-vision revealed nothing, and it was only long experience of such in-fighting that warned him that the weapon was incoming once more.

Ad'non blinked dripping sweat from his long lashes, only just sensing the whip hurtling right in for the bridge of his nose at the last possible moment. Even though he threw himself backwards once more, this time in an impressive display of agility with a complete somersault, he felt the vicious sting as it nevertheless impacted on his chest.

Landing lightly back on his feet, one hand instinctively coming to the weeping wound on his sternum, Ad'non back-pedalled frantically, head turning this way and that as he desperately sought to locate his attacker. He suspected they were using a spell to cool their body and weapons; causing them to blend perfectly with the stone around them to heat-sensing dark-vision. He heard of such spells before, though he had never seen on in use, as they could only be cast by relatively powerful priestesses.

Cold dread gripped his heart as he somehow managed to parry a sudden thrust from the unseen blade, only to have the lash strike a line of agony down his cheek. He was fighting blind, and worse still, he had a good idea of who his opponent might be. A vengeful priestess? It could only be Ang'ayne Tor'duis, and she definitely held the upper hand…

Ad'non cried out for aid, fervently hoping his companions were close enough to hear, working frantically with his blade to defeat the priestess' advantage. Most of her blows he was able to parry, though he took more stinging hits from the whip and a slight nick from her blade on his forearm. It was only a little cut, but the young male cried out at the icy agony it sent coursing up his arm. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened- Ang'ayne had coated her blade with poison.

A glimmer of hope had been forming in the frightened male's mind: he had not yet been struck with the priestess' dread snake-headed whip. Either he was mistaken in the identity of his opponent (but Ad'non didn't think that likely) or she had somehow fallen from Lolth's highest favour. Now, he was no expert theologian, but maybe the fact that Ang'ayne had failed to kill him outright during his botched assassination attempt had angered Lolth? The Spider Queen was a moody one, after all. Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to win free- and then his arm had been nicked; the poison entered into his system; and Ad'non's growing hopes had plummeted.

Utterly panicked now, feeling the strength leached from his limbs with every passing second, all the young male knew was the urge to flee; to find some secure hidey hole where he might curl up and (with any luck) ride out the coursing waves of agony and rising nausea to live to fight another day. In a last desperate bid for freedom Ad'non summoned a globe of darkness, no easy feat for a drow commoner with such a terrible wound, and dropped it over both their heads, hoping beyond hope that he might be able to bull his way through to safety with (hopefully) his attacker's advantage thusly stolen.

It didn't work.

Before he could take more than three steps a quick blow knocked his own magic dagger spinning away, to Lolth-knew-where in the impenetrable blackness. Ad'non gave ground, unarmed and close to swooning from the bone-deep chills rapidly spreading through his body. He managed a last despairing cry for help, not really expecting any aid to be forthcoming. Even if his companions could hear him, since when had drow ever come running to one another's rescue? Then his heel caught in a jag and he fell back on his rump. He thought he could just make out the gleam of Ang'ayne's perfect teeth as she stalked in for the kill.

oOo

Donnia had been walking beside Kaer'lic near the head of the group when she heard the muffled shout from up ahead. It was accompanied by the faint ring and chime of parrying blades, the sounds distorted by the twisting maze of tunnels. Without a moment's pause she had snapped her weapons free of their sheathes and was sprinting flat out, using all of her considerable experience to navigate through the hash of bounced and jumbled echoes. Behind her someone called out, but she paid them no heed.

Ad'non was in danger!

Skidding around a twist in the tunnel she dropped off a ledge, and into the last faltering moments of a darkness globe. As the magic sustaining it finally came apart she saw Ad'non lying sprawled against the wall, hot blood trickling from a number of wicked cuts. From the way he was laying she thought that he must have been trussed up, but she could see no rope. The beaten male was certainly choking; the sobbing rasp of his laboured breathing sounded intensely loud to Donnia, and as she rushed forward to his aid she though she could just make out the turning silhouette of her friend's attacker. With an angry cry Donnia struck, only to have her blade parried at the last moment. Whomever she was fighting was certainly good, at least as highly trained as Donnia herself. While Ad'non lay gasping, pawing frantically at his throat, both fighters went at it hammer and tongs. The former house soldier was soon hard-pressed, though she had scored a few minor hits.

Her opponent bulled hard into her, knocking the smaller Donnia from her feet, and sending her tumbling into Ad'non, who was still squirming on the ground. Winded, the drowess scrabbled to reclaim her dropped weapons, as the suggestion of a larger, armed drow advanced ominously, raising her blade for a killing strike.

Donnia flinched, her fingers digging into Ad'non's quivering side, but the fatal blow never fell. Her attacker's gloomy silhouette shuddered, and issued forth strange gurgling sounds, as the blade fell from her hand with a dull clang. The body slumped awkwardly to the side, heels drumming a death tattoo on the cold stone floor, as another elven form materialised out of the darkness.

"Do you make it a habit to run off into danger for the sake of a mere male, Donnia?" Kaer'lic asked conversationally as she gently but firmly pushed her fellow drowess to the side and bent to unwind the lash curled tightly about the struggling male's throat. Her eyes, still glowing red with dark vision, easily picked up the bleeding gash on his arm, and her delicate brows drew together in a scowl as she studied the wound.

"The blade is poisoned," Ad'non whispered hoarsely, his words imploring. The priestess nodded, not in the least bit surprised. It was not at all uncommon for drow to fight with poisoned weapons.

Donnia, examining a scraped palm, tried not to let her anxiety show as she asked: "Will he live?" Though she successfully kept her tone casual, inside she was all tumult. Why had she run off like that? Ad'non was only a male, after all, and males were expendable…weren't they? Not only that, but there was no benefit in saving a houseless rogue, which is what she was reasonably sure Ad'non was. A valued noble son, perhaps, or Matron Mother's favourite plaything, but why should she have risked her life for someone who was worth no reward? Why _did _she?

Kaer'lic had left Ad'non now, without answering Donnia's question. The male watched her morosely, cradling his unfeeling arm to his chest. The priestess moved off, kicking the now-still body over with her toe, and examining it with considerably more interest then she had Ad'non's injured arm. "It's Ang'ayne Tor'duis," she said, quite cheerfully, beginning to check the body over for anything of value.

"I know," Ad'non wheezed out at the same moment Donnia asked "Who?"

"The priestess Ad'non was supposed to kill," Kaer'lic explained, still sounding unusually cheerful. "You remember, he told us. Oh, how I _hated_ her! We were in all the same classes at the Academy. I've been fantasising about killing her for years. - ooh, look!"

She fished something from the dead priestess' pockets, as happy as any child with a new toy. Donnia put an arm about Ad'non's shoulders, letting the miserable male cuddle into her side. His warmth breath tickled her ear as he let his head come to rest on her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, "I-I didn't really expect anyone to come to the rescue."

"Anytime," Donnia murmured absently, watching Kaer'lic's joyous looting.

oOo

Having taken everything of value from Ang'ayne's corpse, Kaer'lic finally turned her attention to Ad'non's arm. The male would survive without any serious long-term effects from his venomous brush with death, but it would likely be quite some time before he was returned to full health. Donnia found herself cheerfully caring for the male, making sure he was well-fed and warm, and given ample opportunity to rest. If her attentive fussing over a mere male made Kaer'lic regard her with amused incredulity, Donnia didn't mind. It was a small price to pay for the peace of mind knowing Ad'non was safe and well gave her.

She was also pleased by the male's humility. He would look at her with wonder each time she brought him the choicest pieces of the group's dinner, or wrapped her own piwafwi about his trembling shoulders. And, much to the drowess' delight, Ad'non seemed more than willing to do what he could to repay her kindness- something at which he was proving most proficient.

oOo

Donnia kept her arm wound snugly 'bout Ad'non's waist, helping the male through a rough patch in the tunnel. If she was being overly attentive, Ad'non certainly didn't mind. Kaer'lic was already up ahead with Pennyfeather and some of the larger orcs, peering from the entrance of a shallow cave at the infamous surface world.

Ad'non and Donnia drew level with the group, squinting against the brightness of the moon and stars which seeped into the cave. The sounds of a serene summer night trickled tantalisingly past their ears, as delicious smells flooded sensitive drow nostrils.

Silky had already scouted ahead a small way, returning with promising reports of a sleepy farming community ripe for plunder. Rubbing his hands eagerly together, Pennyfeather gave the orders to move out. The night was young, and the diminutive orc didn't want to waste any time.

The three drow drew together, all somewhat overwhelmed, though Ad'non looked all about with interest. Silent as shadows on the breeze, the slaving band descended on a nearby farmhouse, deep in slumber.

oOo

Dropping to the rear, Silky tested the razor edge of her blade with her thumb. It cut deep, causing dark blood to well and drip, but if the woman felt any pain she didn't show it. She had come to the conclusion that Ad'non could not be lured (and thereby bring his plentiful purse within reach) by her charms, and so he would have to die along with Donnia. She would take her plunder and flee; confident the one-eyed priestess would not bother to pursue her. Generally speaking, drow did not bother to avenge other drow.

Moonlight gleamed on the edge of her blade as she lovingly slid it back into it's sheathe, watching and waiting for her opportunity.

**I'm not totally happy with this chapter, but then I never am, am I? As always, feedback is much appreciated.**


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